


Donec Mors Nos Partem

by Rose Golden (geekitout)



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Alternate Universe, Eventual Major Character Death, F/M, I mean also - a major character is Death so, It really isn’t as sad as you might think I promise, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:28:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21855277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geekitout/pseuds/Rose%20Golden
Summary: "What is a ghost? Something dead that seems to be alive." - Richard SikenDeath pays a visit and decides to stay a little longer than planned. While observing humanity in his extended stay, he very quickly falls in love, complicating Theo's engagement to Kitsey, Hobie's life, and his own role in the balance of the universe.Or: Theo flirts with Death.
Relationships: Kitsey Barbour/Theodore Decker, Theodore Decker/Boris Pavlikovsky
Comments: 10
Kudos: 40





	1. An Unexpected Visitor

**Author's Note:**

> I am terrified of putting this out here. Just FYI.

Theo watched as the storm clouds rolled in, making for a particularly gloomy evening. He felt strangely in tune with the weather – a heaviness in his body weighing him down and making him feel sluggish. He turned the sign on the door to Closed and made his way behind the counter to close out the day. Shadows danced across the ledger he was writing in as lightning flashed. Suddenly, an unusually loud clap of thunder made the whole building shake, jolting Theo to his core. The lights blinked off and the whole block seemed to go dead silent. Though he felt silly and would never have admitted it was what he was doing, Theo checked to make sure the windows facing the street hadn’t broken from the violent shudder.

“Hell of a storm, you think?” Hobie called out as he entered the room. Theo turned to face him and graciously accepted the flashlight he was offered. “Power will probably be off for a while.” Theo nodded and then laughed because no sooner had the words left Hobie’s mouth did the lights come back on. Theo turned to speak to Hobie but stopped short. All the color in the older man’s face had drained.

“Hobie—?” Theo started. He followed his gaze and froze. Standing just inside the shop was a man just shy of Theo’s height, dressed in all black with dark, curly hair. His skin was a greyish off-white color and his eyes were so dark they too looked black. _When the hell did he walk in?_ Theo thought. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, suddenly very aware of how crowded the room was. Though they were all several feet apart, he felt like the three men were practically standing on top of each other and he had to fight the urge to shout at the stranger to leave, there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room for all of them.

“Theo,” Hobie said hoarsely, “Why don’t you go put on a pot of coffee now that the power is back on?” Theo started to protest but Hobie’s steely, unwavering gaze on their silent guest made him think it was best not to ask questions. He left the room quietly with an uneasy feeling, the heaviness in his body only expanding.

“I know who you are,” Hobie stated flatly once Theo was out of earshot. The man had turned away to look at the pieces of furniture around him.

“Curious shop you have here, Mr. Hobart,” the man stated as if he hadn’t heard Hobie speak. He ran one pale hand across the cabinet closest to him and kept his back turned. “Something to be said about nonliving things that hold the lives of so many people past and present. Very rich histories here.”

“I know who you are,” Hobie repeated, louder this time. “I felt it as soon as you walked in. The whole atmosphere changed.”

“And who am I, then?” the stranger asked without turning around, hand still smoothing over wooden surfaces.

“You’re the End…are you not?”

Still not turning around, the man ticked his head to one side. “I suppose that is one way to say it. I have many names. The End. _Morte_. Death. Grim Reaper – I do not prefer this one myself.”

“Why are you here?” Hobie asked angrily. At the unexpected sharp tone, the man finally turned.

“I thought perhaps you would greet me as a friend. I come here in peace, James, not hostility.”

“It cannot be,” Hobie murmured to himself, distraught. “It cannot be so. Not right now.”

“Is there ever a good time?”

Hobie sat down and put his head in his hands. Death silently approached and put a hand on his shoulder, making Hobie jump.

“Surprisingly—“

“Human?”

“I was going to say solid but yes, human.”

“I take various forms,” Death said simply.

“And who, dare I ask, does this body belong to? Whose poor soul did you take to inhabit it?”

Death scoffed at the accusation and removed his hand. “Am not the _Devil_ , James. I do not steal souls and prey on the wicked and vulnerable. I am not _evil_. I just…am. I am neither good nor bad. I bring balance to the universe. You do not have to fear me. I am as old as time and one of the only true constants to exist. But, to answer your question, I believe this man’s name was Boris. I do not think I would call him a poor soul – troubled, yes, perhaps. But that’s neither here nor there.” He waved his hand dismissively as if he were tired of the subject. “I am not here to talk about my host.”

“So, this is it?” Hobie asked weakly. “Here? Now? No time for goodbyes?”

“I am not so cruel, Mr. Hobart. When circumstances allow, and yours fortunately do, I visit twenty-four hours before departure.”

“Departure,” Hobie repeated.

“Yes. But we can talk about specifics on the way tomorrow. Best not to get too caught up in the details, such as what the departure process is like because this is very personal process and unique to every individual. Causes much anxiety, I have found, to discuss too far in advance. Just trust that it is very easy and you will not notice a thing. Promise! And I do not make promises I cannot keep. Not in my nature, as you might say.”

“Tomorrow. So soon.”

“Many do not get even this opportunity.”

“Oh, but Theo’s wedding is next week,” Hobie cried. “He will be devastated. The poor boy! What will he do?”

Death nodded in solemn agreement. “He has lost many loved ones, yes. Very tragic life indeed.”

Hobie’s eyes widened with sudden panic. “He isn’t next, is he? Please tell me he isn’t next! I know he has these—these thoughts. He’s never told me outright but I know he thinks about—“

Death held up a hand and shushed him. “If I am being perfectly honest, James, I will not know his fate until it is his time. I wish I could offer more comfort to you about his life, I wish this for all those I take across and their loved ones, but I simply do not know the answer, my friend.”

Hobie closed his eyes and fought back tears. After several seconds of watching him with intense curiosity, Death spoke again. “I have a proposal. This is very rare – I have only done this a couple of times throughout history. But even I, as inhuman as I am destined to be, can see that such a devastating loss before such big life event would not be good for this boy. He has experienced many great losses. For you, I offer this: we stay until next weekend. You celebrate him and his new bride, see them off to a good life, and make peaceful departure as planned one week from today.”

Hobie mulled the offer over in his head and then asked hesitantly, “You would do that for me? Why?”

Death shrugged. “Slow week. Not a lot happening. But—“ finger raised for emphasis – “I do have a request in return.”

“Of course.”

“I can stay here? You have an apartment here, yes? I really do enjoy this shop of yours. Would like to spend more time exploring it.”

Hobie sat in dumbfounded silence for several seconds. “That’s it?”

Death nodded. “I am simple entity. I don’t think I ask for too much. This is an interesting study of human life and its imprint on inanimate objects, I think. I can feel lots of spiritual energies here.”

“Um, sure. Right. Yes. And, um, you won’t get in trouble for this?”

“ _Pft_. Who do I answer to? And even if I answered to someone, what would they do? Threaten to kill me? Lock me away forever? Ha! I am a shapeshifter, Death himself. I make my own damn rules.”

Hobie laughed and wiped away the tears that had fallen. “What do I call you?”

“Eh?”

“A name. What did you say this boy’s name was? I can’t call you Death. I imagine that would elicit some strange looks.”

“Yes, suppose you are correct. Boris was his name. That will be fine. I can be Boris for a few days.”

“Boris, then. Would you care to join Theo and me for a cup of coffee?”

Never had there been so much life in a smile, Hobie thought, than the life in Boris’s returning beam. “I do not know what coffee tastes like. I would be delighted!”


	2. Ghosts of Memories Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot of dialogue but - I hope, at least - it establishes some necessary things that will help the story progress.

Much to Hobie’s satisfaction, Theo was nowhere to be found when he and Boris entered the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Hobie took this as an opportunity to ask the questions burning in his mind.

“How do you get away with being here so long? I only mean, here as in here with me, right now,” he added when he saw the confusion on Boris’s face.

“Ah. I am an entity much larger than a human mind could ever imagine. I am not bound exclusively to this body. People die every second; I cannot be inhabiting one body at a time. I suppose the easiest way to put it for you to understand is to imagine an infinite number of Me’s wandering the world. I told you before – I am a shapeshifter. Perhaps you understood that to mean that the single being standing before you inhabits different hosts one at a time, but no. Is not the case. I am a spirit that can divide itself an infinite number of times, as needed. I am constantly morphing and changing, all over the world. You have no idea who among you is really an embodiment of Death. Could be anyone, especially in a populated place such as New York. And believe me, I am numerous here.”

“What, like zombies?” Boris cocked his head to the side like a dog listening to a strange noise so Hobie added, “The people you, er, inhabit – they’re like the living dead?”

Boris laughed. “No, no! They are not usually dead, these people. That would cause many problems in both your world and mine. Much easier to give a person amnesia than to resurrect a dead body.”

“So this boy here, he’s alive?” Boris nodded and Hobie gasped in horror. “But how—? No one is missing him? His family, his friends? His boss? You’re not worried anyone will recognize him?”

“I think you are thinking too much about this. Would you prefer that I had used the body of a dead man?”

“I—well, no. I guess that would be a bit creepy, wouldn’t it?” Boris nodded. “It’s just, you used past tense when referring to him before, I just assumed…”

Boris scoffed. “You people and your language rules. But you are right though, I did. I did not anticipate the questions or I would have paid more attention. Listen,” he added when Hobie appeared to have more questions ready to fire off, “is very complicated process. I usually do not hang around long enough to need my host’s memories but I do have access to them. One reason I use living bodies is because if they are completely brain dead, they have no memories. Right? Completely blank. Therefore, if I get caught, is just me. I cannot myself experience or process human emotion, plus these people address me like their friend or relative or whoever and I am not great at pretending to be someone I’m not. Makes for very awkward encounters! But – has to be triggered, these memories.” He tapped one finger against a temple for emphasis. “Helps make things feel normal and familiar – like recognizing a chair is a thing to sit on, a cup is a thing to drink out of, this word means this, this person is my mother or father or best friend – so I don’t look and sound like an alien but the senses and emotions, those are all new. I can recognize them by their physical manifestations, things to be observed externally – body language and vocal intonation – but as I myself do not experience emotions and sensations the way humans do, these are very foreign to me. Love, anger, grief, and even physical senses like pain and pleasure and taste, these things do not translate well in memories because I have no experience with them. I cannot relate to them, I cannot connect with them, therefore I am experiencing them in real time, for the first time. Very raw and often very overwhelming. This is one reason I don’t like to stick around for more than twenty-four hours.”

“This is…a lot,” Hobie said, shaking his head.

“Oh yes, try being me! Many things to think about. As far as this Boris you are so concerned with, I do not think many will miss him or recognize him. He is – how to say – _free-spirited_. Gone frequently, does not communicate regularly with anyone. Really an excellent host for temporary use. It will be fine.”

“If you insist,” Hobie said. Despite Hobie’s tone indicating that he was not at all convinced it would be fine, Boris smiled proudly anyway at what he considered a win.

“On the topic of senses and taste, I must say that I do enjoy the smell of coffee but I am not really liking the taste.” He pulled a face and set his cup down.

Hobie laughed. “It’s acquired. Well, listen – I hate to cut the conversation short but I really must go to bed. Shall I show you to your room?”

\--

The following morning, Boris entered the kitchen to find Theo making himself breakfast. He stood in the doorway and silently observed the man before him. He watched his movements carefully – the way his fingers curled gracefully around the spatula in one hand and around the handle of the frying pan in the other, the way the muscles in his back contracted visibly through his emerald sweater, the way the toes of one foot were tapping on the floor in a steady, anxious rhythm. There was a distinct beauty and calmness to the simplicity of domestic human life, Boris thought to himself, eyes following Theo as he poured the contents of the frying pan onto his plate. Theo turned to sit at the table and let out a clipped yelp, almost dropping his plate. He put a hand to his chest.

“Jesus _fuck_!” he cried. “Couldn’t say something? Scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry! Sorry,” Boris said, holding his hands up defensively. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Didn’t want to interrupt.”

“I was making breakfast, not writing a speech,” Theo snapped. “Could’ve announced yourself.”

“My apologies. I will make an effort in the future to make noise when I enter a room.”

Theo set his plate down and ran his hands over his face, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, okay. Sorry I yelled. Just didn’t expect someone to be standing behind me. Do you, um – are you hungry?” he asked in a gentler tone.

Boris blinked and contemplated the question. “Yes,” he said simply. Theo looked at him strangely before offering to make him breakfast as well, an offer Boris gleefully accepted.

“I don’t think I got your name,” Theo said after a moment of silence while he was frying bacon. He had his back turned to the other man and was focused intently on not burning himself. “Sorry I didn’t stick around last night. I had some stuff to take care of.”

“Hm? Oh, not a problem. Boris is the name,” said the other man, inspecting the china in a cabinet off to the side of the room. At Theo’s lack of response, he turned.

Theo’s face had turned towards him slightly but his back was still facing him. “Boris,” he echoed softly. He didn’t say anything else, just put the bacon on a plate next to the eggs he had cooked. Finally, he turned to hand the plate to Boris and stopped, looking him up and down. “Holy shit.”

Boris looked at him, perplexed. “What?”

“You don’t know who I am…do you?”

Boris shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, I—“

“Potter?” Theo asked weakly.

Boris dropped his gaze to the floor and ran through old memories of his host. _Ha! Harry Potter!_ The words _Vegas_ and _Popchyk_ and _Potter_ were ringing through his head like a broken record. A series of flashes, foggy memories of drinking and drugs. Another memory – picking up a white clump of fur and placing it on the chest of a panic-stricken teenaged Theo. Another memory – lying in bed together, face down. Another memory – a kiss goodbye and a yellow taxi cab driving away into the night.

His face lit up in surprise. “Potter! Yes! Wow. Long time, no?”

“I—yeah! I kind of gave up on trying to contact you after a while. What, um…what are you doing here? Do you know Hobie?”

“Yes,” Boris said cautiously. “We have some business to tend to, Mr. Hobie and I.”

“What about?” Theo asked genially, handing the plate to Boris and motioning for him to sit. Boris didn’t respond, just picked up his fork and took a bite of food. “Mmh. Personal? None of my business, got it.” Boris smiled and the two ate together in silence, Boris trying to process new tastes and emotions while Theo stole glances at him every so often.

“Mr. Hobie tells me you’re to be married next week,” Boris said finally, after clearing his plate.

“I am,” Theo responded.

“Lucky woman, no doubt. Must be very exciting for you!” It was Theo’s turn to keep his silence. Boris frowned. “No?”

“Large crowds of people in enclosed spaces isn’t exactly my cup of tea, no.”

“Is that all?”

“No,” Theo said shortly.

Boris nodded. “You do not love her, this girl?”

“We’re not exactly the definition of a Hollywood romance.”

“So why are you marrying her?”

“More of a hassle to call the wedding off at this point. I’m really not in the mood to fight that battle right now.”

“Battle?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I am just asking! Not trying to pry.”

Theo sighed. “She’s in love with someone else, someone who she can’t really openly love. Her mother doesn’t approve of him. Neither do her brothers, but her mother especially can’t stand him.”

“But she likes you,” Boris stated. Theo nodded. “That is why you’re doing it? So this girl, a friend I’m assuming, can be free to love who she wants while still appealing to her mother?”

“Something like that.”

Boris shook his head. “And what do you get out of this deal?”

Theo mulled the question over in his mind. “Haven’t really figured that part out yet. I mean, there are legal benefits to marriage and stuff but emotionally, I don’t really know.”

“You have never been in love?”

Theo looked up, startled. “I—I don’t know. Once, maybe.” His eyes flicked between Boris’s like he was looking for the answer to an unspoken question.

“How would you know if you were?” Boris asked curiously, unfazed by the intensity of Theo's gaze.

“I don’t know…I…I’ve never really bought into the sappy romantic shit, you know? The butterflies and the unending happiness. I don’t think that’s ever going to happen for me.”

“I would think love is different for every person. So what is wrong with that, if those things are not for you? But does not answer my question. How would you know? What do you associate with love?”

Theo thought carefully before answering. “Safety. Not being left behind or shut out. Always there when I need them. We take care of each other.”

“Is that all? You do not wish to have someone make you feel excited to be alive?”

“That’s a pretty hefty task, not sure I’m up to burdening someone with it just yet.”

Boris stood and walked over to Theo, placing a hand on Theo’s chest. “Well, Potter – I hope, for your sake, that someone lights a fire in you someday that makes you excited to be alive.” He smiled when Theo placed one hand over his and they stayed like that for several seconds. Theo opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he heard footsteps approaching the kitchen. He pulled his hand away quickly, prompting Boris to do the same.

“Good morning,” Hobie said cheerfully as he entered the room. Boris and Theo both smiled at him. Hobie stopped when he saw how close Boris was standing to the other man. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No,” Theo replied, “actually I should probably get into the shop. We open in a few minutes.” He turned as if to say something to Boris but again stopped himself, instead nodding to him and exiting the room without another word.

“I don’t know what I walked into,” Hobie said warningly, “but I would prefer you not get too close to Theo.”

“That may be difficult to oblige, I am sorry to say.”

“And why is that?”

“Because he knows my host.” Boris watched with fascination and discomfort as several emotions crossed over Hobie’s face back to back, transitioning from horror to frustration to anger to fear in a matter of seconds. Hobie put a hand up to his chest and took a deep breath. “Careful,” Boris said softly, “having a heart attack would bring an unfortunate end to our negotiation.”

Hobie grit his teeth. “You listen to me very carefully,” he said lowly. “That boy has been through more _shit_ in his lifetime and so help me, if it’s the last thing I do, I will _not_ allow you to make things worse for him.”

“Keep getting your heart rate up and it may very well be the last thing you do, my friend. Alright! Alright, I heard you. Okay? I heard you. Calm down! Was not my intention. It will be fine. What is the worst that could happen? This Boris boy up and vanished before, would it be all that surprising for him to do it again?”

Hobie gaped at him. “Do you—did you _hear_ yourself? Oh, no no no! Don’t you dare bring him back into Theo’s life and take him again. Don’t. You. _Dare._ I remember now, hearing stories about Boris. You have no idea what he meant to Theo. No idea!”

“So what exactly do you propose I do then, hm? I had planned to leave him near the bar I found him in. He would think he drank too much, couldn’t remember leaving the bar and how he got to where he was. Now what? Now I have to figure out how to place him just right so that he crosses paths with Theo, never mind that he won’t remember any of this when he comes to! You really think this does not complicate everything for me too? I did not plan for this!”

“Promise me,” Hobie pleaded, “ _promise me_ you will make this right. Promise me you won’t hurt Theo more than he will already be hurt by the true nature of your visit.”

“I will do my best. This is all I can offer you. I told you, I do not make promises I cannot keep. Now please, calm down. You really are going to give yourself a heart attack and then what? Puts me in very awkward position.” Boris pulled out a chair and motioned for Hobie to sit. Hobie accepted the invitation and put his head in his hands, fighting back tears – of frustration or grief, Boris didn’t know and felt it best not to ask.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think. I have had this idea ever since I picked up The Goldfinch and started reading it. It won't leave me alone so I decided to go ahead and write it. Also, yes - shamelessly, heavily borrowing content from Meet Joe Black.


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